


Necessity

by LostGirl



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 06:07:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2258667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostGirl/pseuds/LostGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wesley shows up on Giles' doorstep after the events of season 3 of Angel and season 5 of Buffy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Necessity

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All things BtVS and AtS belong to Joss Whedon and various corporate entities. I am neither.
> 
> I wrote this for [](http://bethynyc.livejournal.com/profile)[**bethynyc**](http://bethynyc.livejournal.com/), who requested Giles/Wesley for her long past Birthday. I finally finished it, sweetie! I thought it appropriate to use some of her wonderful prompts (which can be found [here](http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=watcherlove&keyword=Writing+Prompts&filter=all)) to get me going. The prompts were, situational: 'One of our boys has trouble asking for something he needs', and the words, 'standing, linger, lost'.

Standing at the window, Wesley was silhouetted by the pallid light of a wintry English sky.  Giles wanted to talk to him, coax him over to the sofa and the fire, but Wesley's very posture spoke volumes about wanting to be left alone.  Giles simply wasn't sure yet if it was lying or not.

He'd only just returned to his flat in Bath after a trip to Africa to oversee the excavation of a few particularly tricky artifacts.  He'd come back to find Wesley sitting on his doorstep, silent and looking as if the world were settled quite firmly on his shoulders.  He didn't even know how long the man had lingered there, waiting for him.

Giles had been surprised, of course, but he'd meant it when he'd extended an invitation to Wesley.  Of course, that had been months ago.  Still, Wes had looked as if he could use a warm, safe place.  Giles had asked what had brought him all the way from LA and Wesley had shrugged and stood.  That was the first look that Giles had gotten at the angry red slash across Wesley's throat and then Giles had understood.  Not the specifics, of course, but he knew the type of situation, could see that the wound was more than physical.

"Is everyone all right?"  Giles knew Wesley probably didn't want to talk about whatever had happened and that was fine, or would be as soon as Giles knew the answer to that question.  Giles thought he'd have heard had something happened, but one could never be certain.

"Everyone you know is alive," Wesley rasped out, voice bitter and hard.  Giles could tell the emotion wasn't directed at him, but even if it had been he would have done exactly the same thing as he did.  Unlocking the door to his flat, Giles pushed it opened and motioned for Wesley to precede him.

That had been a week ago.  A week of watching Wesley barely eat, a week of hearing him pace the floor of the guest room night after night, a week of seeing Wesley's broken pieces every time he looked the man in the eyes.  It was enough.  Deciding that surprise was the best option, Giles stood, strode over to Wesley and wrapped his arms around the man from behind.

Wesley went still, his body tensing hard and it was clear that the extra push of laying his head on Wes' shoulder wasn't needed.  He did it anyway, giving into the urge with a small smile.  He said nothing as he waited for Wesley's reaction.

"Er, Giles?"  Wesley's voice was the same rasp it had been for the last few days, better than when Wes had first arrived, better for the little use it had gotten since.

Wanting to draw this out, to get more out of Wesley than that, Giles only responded with, "Hmmm?"

Wes was quiet for a strained moment, his body tensed almost to the point of shaking.  For the first time in a solid week, Giles was relatively certain Wesley wasn't thinking about anything except the here and now.  He certainly wasn't brooding over whatever it was that had sent him to England.

"You're . . ." Wesley trailed off.  "You're . . . What are you doing?"

"I'm studying the weather.  I'm fairly sure the rain's done for the day, but it's so hard to tell."  Giles managed to sound as nonchalant as he'd intended, but he was worried Wes might have an aneurism, given how rigid he'd become.

"Have you lost your mind?"  The question was given in a low, wary voice, as if Wesley were worried about what effects speaking too loudly might have on Giles.

"I don't believe so, but given our occupation it's always a possibility," Giles granted before the urge to smile forced him to bite his lip.

"I . . . see.  Are you . . . h-holding me?"  Wesley had a hard time getting the word out.  In the end the 'h' came out so harshly it sounded something like a sneeze.

"I seem to be," Giles replied though the urge to smile had left him completely.

There was an odd tone to Wesley's voice, something underlying the words.  Wes sounded both terrified and longing and the two together struck a chord with Giles.  More often than he could count, he'd felt that way over his years in Sunnydale and he remembered how, after Jenny's murder and his ill-conceived attack on Angelus, Buffy's being there for him had been . . . more than he'd ever expected and exactly what he'd needed.  Now she was gone and Giles found himself swallowing hard, found himself wishing Wesley would relax and let Giles do what he could for both of them.

There was a long moment of silence, Wesley still rigid in his arms.  Giles wasn't sure what to do, whether to pull away and apologize, or . . .

"Thank you," Wesley's body relaxed and what sounded like a pent up breath left him in a soft sigh.  Wes' hand came up to rest on Giles' clasped ones.


End file.
